"naan" poems
Original English version: http://hellopoetry.com/poem/skyrim-3/
Zu'u lost ont jul zulot fein naan vorey jul,
Midrak zoklot zurun Zu'u stood, veyn pogaan ran.
Nii lost Zu'u wo fund krii sahrot dovah, ahrk zind uben vokul jun,
Ko svaan snol ahrk geikaal mund, nust fund heind dii for ahrk mirodah!
Zu'u lost ahst wah do lein, ahrk nid vust knock zey tum!
Fah dii sos nust came, nuz ko niist siifur nust drowned,
Zu'u lost hailed *** ko dii nor ahrk zoor ko suleyksejun!
Sahrot Lahvirn neben lot lokoltei, voth zey ahst niist zurgah,
Morokei lost golt mu tread voknau, lok bex ahrk stin!
Zu'u nuft wah kos undoriik med you…
But ruz Zu'u rem ronaaz wah krahsek.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
*spread it on thick
on my bread and biscuit
lots of peanut butter
twice as thick
as grandma’s
makeup cake on her face*
peanut butter
more than tar on the road
peanut butter
with my naan and my rice
lay it on the noodles
and peanut butter with tofu
don’t forget a dollop
with the curry too
good pasta and pizzas
become better
soaked in peanut butter
Ye Olde English Sandwich
flames like a dragon
fixed with half a bottle
of the New World Inca paste
*spread it on thick
on my bread and biscuit
lots of peanut butter
twice as thick
as grandma’s
makeup cake on her face*
Dec 28, 2013
Dec 28, 2013 at 5:10 AM UTC
When my uncle came home from the war
he brought seven bags of naan
two pounds of butter and a piece of
shrapnel buried in his stomach
Cook he commanded
Butter the naans, heat
their skin on the stove
until they’re scorched
until they scream for release.
Cut them into a million
pieces and scatter them
Along Victory Avenue.
Once Noakhali’s valiant champion
Who scarfed 100 fuchkas
With their blood sauce streaming
is now unable to eat
His stomach is a paunch
Growling with rotting screams
pulled fingernails and broken
bones, fragmented stories
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 9:39 PM UTC
I used to make this exotic Indian dish.
It combined so many spices—like cardamom,
coriander, and a hard
pulpy substance called tamarind that I
soaked in hot water and used only the juice.
It was a giant Middle Eastern stew.
It was half science and half art.
It was math at its best,
generally, I despise math.
It smelled so foreign and exotic,
it contrasted with the wife and 2.3
kids placed neatly around the dinning room
table, waiting on
the finishing touches,
sprigs of fresh
cilantro tossed atop each bowl.
An Indian bread called naan was dipped
in the stew—it was wonderful, amazing.
The wine—smiles—laughter,
I can still smell it and taste it.
And now,
on lonely winter nights,
my take-out tandoori chicken
smells like a T.V dinner.
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 2:41 PM UTC
Give me a Coca Cola party number 1
And boot conservos up the ***
All they care is their 4 bedroom house yeah mate yeah
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 2
As we watch the singer do the boogaloo and then we crack open that bottle and spray it on
Their uncle oh how cool
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 3
Simon finally puts up the Christmas tree
First he puts the tinsel and then the bells and an angel to go on top ph yeseree
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 5
After those 5 cokes I feel alive
I jump up and down to every song I heard on the radio
Nice and high
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 6
The nice Coca Cola will give me
A nice sugar fix
As I slam it down, it goes through my body
Yeah if also rots my teeth
Give me a Coca Cola party number 7
Coke is so bad for you I want to send if to oblivion
But the more I see santa or Sydney swans or the big Coke truck red and white is the key
Give me a Coca Cola party number 8
Instead of roast dinners I prefer Cola lollies on my plate
You see as I ate each one
I sank into a garlic naan
The lollies gave it a sweet taste
Give me a Coca Cola party number 9
I would take my Coke and walk around the party introducing myself saying hi, my name is Brian and I told one man I hate the liberal party
Cause they don't like the poor
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 10
While doing your tapestry you have your 2 litre Coke near you like your one of the real men
But people say cokes a kids drink and I say to you this
****** oathe I am a cool kid
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 11
If you keep drinking that stuff
You'll end up in heaven
But not in a good way
You will be with tony Grieg
And Norman may
How cools that
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 12
Have a few quite cokes with santa and his elves
After Christmas Day
When they load all the presents into the sleigh
Party party party
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 13
If the Coca Cola party was a kid
He would be finally in his teens
But he will say to his uncle
Have I got the muscle
To enjoy drinking Coke oh yeah
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 14
Every kid was nice to people
But me mate I was really naughty
So santa gave me no presents
And scounged around my house for money
To buy a nice 2 litre bottle
Of Coke
Give me a Coca Cola party
Number 15
When I go for a run I feel tired
And a bit sweaty
The Coke slows me down mate
Please don't lose your entire
Top row mate stop drinking Coke
Merry Christmas Coke lovers
Past and present
Dec 9, 2017
Dec 9, 2017 at 7:51 AM UTC
nothing much happened today
no great calamity, no suprising visitor
the cornflakes dried to a cement like
consistency in the chipped blue bowl
the tuxedo rex vomited on the newly bought
home beautiful magazine..
my heart beat at a lazy 74 beats per minute
when i checked after my nana nap
my bad ankle creaked and twinged
reminding me to get the towels in
before it rained
I made a wonderful chicken cashew curry
for dinner, but fogot to buy naan bread
and yogurt to accompany it..
I kissed the god boy goodnight,
then read two chapters of Harry Potter aloud
as the tuxedo rex, watched me, from the windowsill
marked some essays of dubious quality,
was given a shoulder massage,
by my agong surfer dude,
that led to much greater intimacies
no, nothing much happened today
yet it was fufilling, upon looking back
it had rhythm and purpose
turned the cogs of my world
it was the miles between the milestones
that often go unrecorded
and as I sit in the almost dark of the moon
I do believe it was one of the best days of my life
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 6:42 PM UTC
Angaray, Shamma-n kay aagay
Yun dikhtay hain,
Jaisay shola bujh sa jayy kissi udaas shaam main
Aur kuch nahin
Yay ehsaas ki maut hai
Jiss Kay Kafan main paiwasta chaid
Najanay kuen sakoot orhay baithay hain.....
Insaan ka wajood itna aarzi kuen hai
Kay jab roay tou bulbulay ki manind phatt jay
Aur jab ** saakan, tou kainaat naan chalay.....
Kia karna aisay **** ka
Jo khud ko jaga naan sakay
Har simt hai bass hoo
Haq hoo
Ya hoo ka alam
Har lafz main bass hoo....
Anbaar hai kay uthaya nahin jata
Har baar sulaya nahin jata
Bass chain aur roh ki ikk jang hai
Aur uss jung ka haara ikk thakka insaan......
Dec 12, 2019
Dec 12, 2019 at 5:31 PM UTC
yay jo haal hoa sare- shaam hi,
siyah dasht -o- garibaan hoa,
Mjhay hasil naan tha jo kamal bhe,
Wo bay-sabab shikasta -o -jaan hoa..
aay rahbar -e-zindagi, yay kaisi taveel tar raat hai,
Naan amaan mili, naan hi koe imtihaan hoa!!
Wo jo pamaal kar gay meray khwab ko,
us hashar-e- jaan ka kia samaan hoa;
Yunheen gard main liptay bujhay khayal,
Shahr say jaanay ka yun ihtimaam hoa!
Yay rang nhn saraab hain,yay ehsaas say door paar hain,
Meray bayrabt say tootay pyaar main,Jo hoa tou bass yunheen hoa!!
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
frying plantains in Tanzania
with rice - so much rice
ageing postmen with bus passes and metal knees
carrying keisters of it
a thousand different ways
slow walkers
married, always
frittering away chances or just
connected,
with the mortal coils of the market?
big coat on in the Kalahari
your scorpions absent from the guest list,
exiled.
the brown bears caged, but should things have
really.
come to this?
fierce heat.
fizzing geysers rumpled by grey fluorescent lights and
plagued,
by the speeding steam trains of their past that took them to
SO MANY GREAT PLACES but they only recall the
endings.
the crashing off the tracks,
the unexpected landslides
revolve
navigate the ridge and don’t funk from looking down.
it is better this way.
stamp the scorpions in.
£5 on the door.
take the free round and dance around their nimbus because even though you WILL NEVER
know them,
you would NOT
BE HERE.
without them.
your corner patch
a feral patch given over to woodworms and weeds
but a patch without chains,
shaded by roses suffering a kind of pressure you will never understand.
the naan breads arrived 40 minutes early and ruined your bath but
WHAT
A
PRIZE.
to exist in a rainforest where naan breads are possible.
and ferns unfurl,
then hang,
and rise again.
frying plantains in Tanzania
slow married women bearing grain
carry your cactuses out into the sun.
feed them.
watch them.
be naked with your scorpions and really feel the
football finals
the canal gates
the shooting stars, zooming by
through the windows of the train.
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 3:03 PM UTC
In spring morning haze,
out of a red brick council house
window a bothered standing hawk
borrows wide eyed Wonder from a radged lad who reaches upwards
with pudgy hands to grasp
her silver underside and blue head.
Wonder bawls as it arcs in her claws
over grassed over pit heaps of Finished
Work and Help's call centre natter
to a high perch in **** racked ruins of an Old Hall.
Wonder refuses warm carcasses
of mice and voles,
desperate feathered mam returns
with scavenged chips, naan bread and pizza.
In noon summer shimmer
she pushes Wonder to fly,
but it falls out the cup,
grasps stone wall in its drop.
Soon, a cuckoo, Wonder heaves
the other nippers, fat Loneliness and scrawny Grief, or is it scrawny Loneliness
and fat Grief, out their home,
into an autumn mid afternoon
of burnished fallen leaves,
or, bored at mam's twitter
Wonder cannot garner,
breaks its fellow fledglings bones,
ragged Hunger and blistered Wishes,
or is it ragged Wishes and blistered Hunger.
Soon too big for home,
Wonder falls to earth,
and snaps its spine.
Kestrel mam covers Wonder's face
with her wing in winter night
gust, then abandons it
to foxfood and worms.
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 6:14 AM UTC
Subah-e-tamaam kay sozo gar
Khoon main nahay apnay lakht-e- jiggar
Aay soz-e-lab-e- baam, kia naghma gungunao gay,
Har roz ik nae tamanna jagao gay?
Unn hasrat bharay dilon main kia kia saaz bajao gay?
Aay saq-e- dil, yun hasraton main jeena bhe kia jeena
Jiss dil main naan koe hasrat , naan koe tamanna!!!
( its urdu language, that is a mother language in Pakistan)
Mar 19, 2018
Mar 19, 2018 at 4:45 AM UTC
everyone has them
their ***** underwear,
their skeletons in
the closet...
i too have mine,
well, one in particular...
and it goes like this:
- somerset (not cornish)
camembert cheese
- a dash of cinnamon
- honey
- butter
- on toasted tandoor
baked naan bread...
come on! it's cheese!
it's not exactly a comparison between
a ferrari and a porsche!
it's cheese! cheese!
i don't even know whether to call
it a dessert or a starter...
why am i being pedantic
about the cheese?
cornish camembert is harder
than its somerset cousin...
and naan bread?
you really expect me to like
the putrid dough of an english slice
of toast?! **** off!
they just discovered sour-dough...
i'm not toasting this load of
pigeon droppings, moulded
into something resembling
a decent slice of chew...
how many times do i have to say this,
i would not eat in a restaurant
where the chef smoked marijuana...
as i wouldn't trust a skinny chef...
you need palette numbing additives
to explore,
alcohol for the carousel lottery
of ingredients...
and a charred tongue from smoking
cigarettes...
i'm trying to figure out
how french toast came about though...
the recipe was passed down
to me from the film
kramer vs. kramer...
i haven't dared to explore the classic
further.
every time i cook,
i think of being an inquisitor of
anorexia...
last time i heard,
anorexia was like *******
well... something akin to eating
through your nose...
imagine an inquisition
of anorexia, far away from spain,
and then, start cooking -
i'll say, that's better on
the imagination than
the christ metaphor of bread
and wine...
just imagine an anorexic
strapped into a chair
while you start cooking
spaghetti bolognese (e.g.)...
if i see an iron maiden, i'll tell you...
it'll probably be the chattering
jaw of the anorexic
telling me in tongues:
feed the pigs this ****
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
I took this girl on a date to the Purple Pakora,
Lil did I know how much this girl would order,
I met her on tinder-loo, she orderd a vinderloo madras and a korma
What the actual tandoori duck ?? how many animals does this ***** wanna slaughter?
I'm already thinking **** how much they gonna charge me,
When she puts an order in for another 12 oinion bhaji
I could stop what was going on,
Next thing I know she wants a side order of poppadom with extra ******* yogurt on
Then she looks me in the eye an says " shall we get a starter coz I absolutely love a chiken tika masala
Holy **** **** god dam!!!
Now to wants to try each different flavor of naan
10 cocktails that didn't even touch the ******* coaster,
Then she goes " I'm on a diet. So I'll just have 1 vegetable samosa
Burn a hole in my pocket the size of the equator,
And she didn't forget to tell me to tip the ****** waiter
After we left this girl wants to party
She goes I'll come with you if you get some charlie
All I got to eat was her sunbed barbecued punnani, and that ******* tasted like a gone off seafood biriani,,
BEWARE!!!!
Feb 8, 2021
Feb 8, 2021 at 10:04 AM UTC
Tameer-ay ulfat say bahter tameer-ay amarat
Aay baa-zoq sajda kar tou dekh kay kar,
Meray pahlo say liptii tere yaad-e-gah
Jumbash-e nam-tar, bay-wuqqat,bay-talab,
Bass ab har taraf niklay jo saaz-gar,
Naan muhabbat talab,naan lutf bar,
Sirf ikk adab,sirf ikk talab,
Iss zamana-e-nasaz ki sirf ikk hawas,
Taamer-ay amarat!!
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 11:36 AM UTC
muhabbat ka faham jana tou dil ro para
yay kaisa ilm hai kay jiss raah gya wahan shor para
yay dekho kon hai saaqi jo chala aa raha hai khaali hath
naan mayy hai naan masti, naan may kadday ka shoor para
zamana saaz tha, par sakoot main raha umar bhar
magar roze hashar yay kuen aur kaisa shaur para
aur phir jab dill tota, aur ishq ki baazi haar gya
wo shaksh murjha gya aur hanstay hanstay phir ro para
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 2:10 PM UTC
Punch me, roll me, throw me up
Stuff me in a pan or shove me in a cup
Put some oil and massage me well
Till am all arouse with my swell
If you tired, put a cloth on me
Don't leave me naked for others to see
Come back soon and satisfy my needs
Others are waiting for their feeds
Oh Yes!!...punch me! punch me again
Pull me apart
Do it from the start
Roll me smooth
Make me feel good
Now you've ignited the flame
Put me up, so I can play my game
Toss me over and grease in the same
Oil me, flavour me
Now let me cool, get off me
Dress me up for others to see
While you let them drool to taste me...
Yours sincerely,
Roti, Paratha, Naan
(Indian flat breads)
©sim
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 8:05 PM UTC
Nhn aayna- e -saaz main go-mago yay kaifiat
Jaisay burg- o -bahar main ** koe chingari
Jiss kay sholon main bujhay yay dil rakh ki soorat
Jisss kay chahray main jalay angari.....
Main wo zaat hon jiss ka koe shahar nhn
Jo jahan chalay wahan aag lagay
Jiss kay bayan main naan zahar naan amar
Jiss kay wajood main dah-kain sab raaz chupay.....
Nhn asbaab koe, nhn imkaan koe
Mere zaat kay hisaab main nhn jaan koe
Phir bhe toofan-e- azam liay chalti hon
Kay meray dard ki intiha ki nhn intiha koe.......
Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC